


Games of the Orally Fixated

by orphan_account



Category: NotMine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Chapter 1

It all started with a small vat of blood with just a dash of iron.

Right then and there Rose knew that this Doctor would be very, very different from the old version.

Her first Doctor would never have dipped his finger in and had a lick. He'd have sniffed, perhaps, or just asked what it was. But licked?

The Doctor had always been somewhat fussy about what he ate, Cronk Burgers notwithstanding.

This Doctor seemed like an overactive child, forever putting things in his mouth, licking and nibbling and biting; whether it was licking a wall or sticking his fingers into a jar of marmalade, he just couldn't stop.

And it was driving Rose crazy.

She had found it very hard to keep her feelings in check when the Doctor had big ears, a leather jacket and a brooding complex to put Angel to shame. Now that he was a tasty hyperactive hottie with an oral fixation, her cold shower was getting more of a work-out that she was.

Was there anything he wouldn't taste? Except her obviously.

But so far she'd been quite able to put it to the back of her mind, to pretend that it didn't matter and to ignore it, maybe even joke when he started to lick and bite and nibble.

But if he didn't stop swirling that pen around in his mouth she wouldn't be responsible for her actions.

He had been chewing that same pen for an hour now as he tried to work out formulae for some special TARDIS extension trip thing that she couldn't possibly understand, because she was stupid ape who couldn't concentrate because his tongue kept curling around that blue top and his white teeth … nibbled incessantly.

Rose could see his tapered fingers tapping on the strong plastic body and caressing the nib as he gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling, his mind obviously a million light-years away.

To make matters worse he was wearing his glasses.

No, His Glasses. It deserved capitalisation.

They were thick and dark and geek chic sexy in a 'I-want-to-steam-them-up" kind of way. And boy did she want to. They hid his adorable, melt-me-baby eyes, which had to be against some sort of law, but at the same time they made him look so incredibly delicious. Someone she just wanted to sink her teeth into.

Oh, lord, his oral fixation had to be contagious.

About an hour ago he had unbuttoned his top shirt button and loosened his tie and it just wasn't fair. A slight peak of hard, tanned strong male and she was ready to scream in pure frustration.

Then, to be a complete bastard, he'd started to rake his hands through his luscious, thick hair and twist sections of it in sexy disarray.

Twice she'd tried to get up and walk away, to shower, to scream, or to run a marathon to ease some of her tension, but when she moved he'd pinned her with a hurt look and asked her where she was going.

So Rose stayed and wished with all her might that she was a blue biro whilst she cursed Time Lords and their insatiable, thick-headedness.

"Aha!" he suddenly said with a jubilant grin and jammed the pen in the corner of his mouth as he flipped the pages over again. As he swung in his chair she saw the muscles in his back bunch and ripple.

Rose clenched her fingers into fists and bit her lip.

She was going to kill him.

"I knew it!" he gave her his best dazzling smile. "Simple really."

"Oh?" she squeaked and had to clear her throat. "So, we all done then, yeah?"

"Almost." He picked up a book near him and then licked his finger.

He licked his finger, his tongue darting out to moisten the tip before dropping his hand down to turn the page.

Rose stared.

It wasn't fair. Was it even possible to die from frustration? She had to get out of there. Really had to go.

"Just one more," he mumbled and picked up the one again, making a few notes before sticking it into his mouth. His lips pulled back and his pearly white teeth nipped at the lid, his tongue curling around it to hold it in place.

Rose snapped.

She jumped out of her seat and stormed over to him, yanking the pen out of this mouth.

Half of her yelled at her to just grab his head plaster her lips to his and have at it. The other half of her screamed that that was, quite possibly, the worst thing she could do, including saving her father's life.

The two halves warred for an instant and one half was about to win when she registered the Doctor staring at her intently.

Doctor. Her Doctor. Her Doctor who had no idea of the effect he had on her and who would be quite horrified if he knew.

She cleared her throat and dropped the pen on the table "C-c-chewing p-pens is dangerous." She managed. "If you swallowed, you could choke and I can't break in another Doctor right now. Cup of tea?"

Before he could answer she turned on her heel and all but ran from the room.

The Doctor slumped back in his chair and whipped his glasses off.

"Bugger."

He'd played the rumpled look, the half-undressed, the finger licking and the pen and she'd still managed to resist him.

He'd been so damn close!

He'd almost had her; had been within an inch of her cracking and throwing herself at him.

Damn, she was good.

But he was better.

Her willpower was truly impressive but his was better and he always, always got what he wanted.

And he wanted Rose.

He knew he could have her at any time if he showed the interest but that was too easy. He wanted her to come to him. He wanted to drive her half mad out of her mind for him. He wanted her to be the aggressor, the way he knew she could and that way she'd lose all her inhibitions.

And she was close.

Oh, she thought he couldn't tell but she didn't realise that every single one of his senses was a million times more sensitive than hers. She didn't realise that he could hear the way her heart beat frantically every time he was near. She didn't know he could feel her blood rushing around her body at a painful speed whenever he was around. She wasn't aware that he could smell her, feel her, sense her.

It was a slow seductive game and even though Rose didn't know they were playing, he was determined to win.

He glanced down at the chewed pen on the table and grinned.

He was so evil.

"Oh, Rose," he said, getting up and hurrying after her. "Do we have any of those cakes, you know, the ones with the cream in the middle?"

He was going to win and maybe sooner than he hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

Rose stared at the ceiling like it held the seven wonders of the universe in its tiled grip.

It didn't.

What it did hold was seven small circles that could be the start of something fungal and gross.

Gross like that beast they'd run from yesterday with ooze and puss. Where the Doctor had grabbed her hand and tugged her along with him, a broad grin on his face and his fingers oddly light and caressing.

Soft against her skin.

Damn it.

The ceiling wasn't enough to capture her attention, which drifted down slightly towards the slight sound across the room.

Rose caught it before it could alight on the one thing that was truly, truly, a bad idea.

She stared at the wall; interesting wall with switches and wires which could possibly be some kind of safety hazard.

Hazards which they could do without.

Kind of like the way the TARDIS had fused something important with a name longer than hers, which meant that the heat increased this week to the point where the Doctor has loosened his tie.

Slowly.

Like some kind of Time Lord strip tease.

Rose clenched her fists.

A sigh from across the room was designed to draw her attention. It was heartfelt and deep, satisfying.

Rose took a shaky breath and stared at the table top, deciding that there was no possible way she was going to leave here intact or sane.

"Rose?"

She wasn't going to look over at him. "Hmm?" She pretended real fascination with her nails.

"Are you sure you don't want some?"

She shook her head, not looking up. "Not hungry."

"But it's soo good."

Rose closed her eyes.

That wasn't fair.

His low voice, designed to tempt and tease was crawling down her spine with whispers that made her want to …

Rose shoved herself to her feet.

"Rose?"

"I'm gonna go and—"

She looked up almost instinctively and trailed off.

Now THAT had to be some kind of illegal.

The Doctor held the cream bun at chin level, just slightly away from his mouth and trailed his tongue along the oozing cream as it spilled out of the fluffy pastry. His eyes rolled back and closed as the pink muscle slathered in sweet cream slowly disappeared into his mouth. His lips closed around pearly white teeth and the moisture glistened on those inviting lips as he swallowed.

A sinful grin crept over his mouth and he nibbled at his bottom lip, savouring the taste before opening his eyes to fix her with a hazy look. "Rose?"

She closed her mouth. "Hmm?"

"You going somewhere?"

She realised that she was standing up and wondered why that was. Surely it was a much better idea to go over there and taste that cream second hand.

As if he'd heard her thought, the Doctor held up the bun. "Are you sure I can't tempt you?"

To do what? She wanted to scream. To insanity? To sheer soul-destroying desire? To go out of her mind with lust?

"I'm on a diet," she blurted. Any reason but the obvious.

The Doctor's eyes left hers and drifted slowly, oh so slowly down her body, lingering on her curves and hips before dragging back up, pausing on her neck before meeting her eyes again, something dark in them.

"Oh, you look in perfect shape to me," he drawled.

Rose's mouth opened and closed, her knees feeling quite weak.

She blinked once. There was no way that the Doctor knew what he was doing to her. He just wouldn't. He had made it quite clear that he didn't do that kind of things with companions and definitely not with her.

He was just playing.

Had to be.

She managed to find a smile from somewhere. "That's … sweet of you, but I've been overdoing the chips."

The Doctor opened his eyes wide. "Shame on you, Rose Tyler, it's impossible to overdo the chips! I mean," his eyes went dreamy, "just imagine hot, greasy chips. Deep golden and covered with a glistening layer of hot spicy vinegar, the sharp bite of salt as you put it on your tongue and bite down. The explosion of tangy fat in your mouth as the potato splits open to fill your mouth with fluffy vegetable, crisp edges crunchy, leaving a sting on your lips that you just have to lick away…"

His tongue made an appearance again, swiping across his lower lip, imagining the grains of slat and the tingle of vinegar.

Rose's heart bet a triple beat in her chest as she followed the path with her eyes.

Oh, she ached.

Bastard!

"Rea—" she cleared her throat and tried to lower the decibel to something below dog-whistle. "Really not hungry for chips."

His eyes opened, heavy-lidded and sultry. "What are you in the mood for, Rose Tyler?"

Gah.

Him. Him covered in cream in a bed of hot chips? Him covered in salt and wrapped in newspaper?

Rose choked. "Muesli!"

He blinked. "What?"

"B-boring and healthy muesli with low fat yoghurt and … and … apples."

There. That was unsexy.

Apples.

He gave her a disbelieving look. "Muesli?"

Rose nodded frantically. "Yup."

"R-ight." He looked from her to the remains of his cream bun and Rose decided that now was a good time to make her escape.

"That reminds me, I need to brush my teeth."

The disbelieving look was greater and Rose even able to move without her knees buckling.

"Didn't you already do that this morning?"

"You can't neglect personal hygiene," she muttered and all but raced away, not stopping until she reached her bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it.

Phew, close call.

Bugger! The Doctor put the cream bun down on the nearest plate and sighed in frustration.

Rose Tyler had better will power than he gave her credit for.

After making such a fuss to get his cream bun last week he'd decided to play it gradually.

First he'd manufactured something 'wrong' with the TARDIS air conditioning and had waited until Rose was watching before he loosened his tie.

Nothing.

Then he'd started changing the way he held her hand, light touches that were more flirtatious than friendly, caressing rather than caring.

Nothing.

She'd totally missed his yawn and stretch where he'd untucked his shirt to provide a little skin action as she'd been looking at the ceiling which, incidentally, he should check for signs of rot.

Then he'd played the cream bun, taking his time to taste and savour the sweet flavours and drag out the experience.

Rose noticed that, there was no doubt about it.

But, instead of throwing the bun over her shoulder and climbing into his lap, she'd started to babble about chips and muesli and going on a diet.

Women!

What did he have to do? Walk into her room in a towel?

A grin curved his lips … now that was an idea.

Maybe as a last resort. He still had plenty of tricks to make Rose Tyler go mad with lust; make her crack and determine to have her way with him.

He chuckled, an evil villain type of laugh and got up, ready to implement the next phase of his diabolical plan of seducing Rose Tyler.

He paused at the door and reached back to grab the cream bun.

No point in letting it go to waste.


	3. Chapter 3

It's entirely possible, Rose thought, to love someone and yet hate them at the same time.

It was especially possible when said someone was a Time Lord.

It was even more possible, in fact it was not only damn likely, but almost bloody prerequisite, to dislike them if said person was a Time Lord with an oral fixation.

And when it came to a sexy Time Lord with an oral fixation wearing his glasses, well Rose considered that her restraint in not killing him was worthy of some sort of sainthood. Or at least a holiday somewhere.

Someplace else.

Someplace where the Doctor hadn't decided was just a fabulous idea worthy of any of his regenerations; someplace where the Doctor hadn't decided would be peaceful and relaxing; someplace where the Doctor wasn't wound up and giddier than a schoolboy in a brothel; someplace where the Doctor couldn't get ice-cream.

Rose glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Yup, he was still enjoying … no enjoying his ice-cream.

Her hands tightened into fists as she repeated her inner mantra; a mantra she had started when he'd materialised the TARDIS on the warm tropical beach early this morning; a mantra she had repeated as he grabbed her hand with a grin and tugged her into the hot sun, swinging their hands and talking about their previous adventures, occasionally brushing up against her; a mantra she had reaffirmed when he told her she'd be very hot in that jacket and would she like him to hold it for her, before helping her take it off, his hands stroking their way across her arms as he did so.

Her mantra went something like this: He's doing this on purpose, thebastard. Don't jump thebastard. Repeat until the urge to strangle him, or throw him to the floor and bite down on his Adam's apple, is gone.

Of course, it was on a never-ending loop since he had decided he was hungry and bought an ice-cream. Not a normal 99 with a flake that could be eaten within minutes and discarded.

No. That would be far too simple, convenient and healthy for her state of mind.

He had to buy a triple-thick, double layered mocha-iced ice-cream done in swirls of red and blue which twirled round and round the chocolate cone base impossibly high with crunchy nuts hidden in the thick, cold vanilla ice-cream.

Then he— thebastard— had added berry sauce. Thick, red, gloopy berry sauce; holding it high above the confection and dribbling it on like a soft sweet river of sugar, letting it trickle down the sides of ice-cream to dance enticingly along the rim of the cone.

"Want one?" he asked innocently as he paid for his treat.

Rose bit down on her lip, tempted beyond measure to take it off him and stick it on his head in retaliation for his unconscious seduction. Using that image helped her reply almost civilly. "No, thank you, Doctor," youbastard "I can feel the calories from here."

The Doctor paused with his mouth inches away from his treat and he glanced at her face before dropping his gaze down to graze over her neck and chest, lingering heatedly on her breasts before dripping down, sweeping over her hips and along her legs before climbing slowly, oh-so-slowly, back up.

He gave her a lascivious wink and grinned. "I told you, Rose, this fixation you have about putting on weight is ludicrous, ridiculous, daft even. I keep you fit enough with this lifestyle of ours running, running, running and, occasionally, hopping for our lives. I'm sure if you were in the slightest danger of becoming even a bit heavier there are all sorts we could do to help. I mean, exercise doesn't have to be painful or hard; Diggrants from the third Delta moon have this marvellous way of bouncing their way fit and Gibbons roll it away, I mean literally roll down hills until it's flattened. Oh, if you go to the Banana republic on Haitti's second ring you can hula it away, imagine that, Rose, hula exercise." He noticed her glare and smiled. "Where was I? Ah, yes. I like curves personally, something to hold onto—" her eyes widened and he added, "—when you're running for your life. But exercising can be fun. In fact, some exercising can be very, very pleasurable," his voice dipped low and he licked his upper lip slowly.

Rose swallowed. She wasn't touching that one with a barge-pole.

"Riiii-ght. All the same, enjoy your ice-cream."

"Oh, I will," he promised wolfishly and he stared at the mountainous confection. "Won't I, my beauty? Hmm, who's a lovely sweet thing, hmm?"

Rose hid her smirk as he spoke coaxingly to his ice-cream and she started to walk away, shaking her head in bemusement.

The Doctor followed behind her. "You are gorgeous, yes you are. Totally luxuriant and delicious, tempting, tasty. Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. I'm going to lick you and suck you until you're soft and pliant, and then, I'm going to devour you."

Rose froze and spun on her heel. "Wh—" She tried for a lower decibel. "What did you just say?"

The Doctor blinked and gave her a totally innocent look. "Sorry, Rose, I wasn't listening. I was talking to my ice-cream."

"Sure." youbastard.

He beamed manically at her and then ducked down to swipe his tongue over the base of the cone, capturing the red sauce on his tongue. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Mmmm, Rose," he moaned.

Her jaw dropped at the blatant desire in his tone, his muttering of her name going straight through her. "W-what?"

His eyes fluttered open. "Rose, you have to try this. It's like—" he searched for the words. "It's like sin," he breathed rapturously, "wrapped in an orgy of chocolate that just coats your tongue with slick velvety chocolateness and tangy sweet berries. It melts in your mouth like a good kiss and the taste explodes like an—"

"If you say orgasm, I'm gonna slap you," Rose warned quickly, her face flushed. His eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped.

"I wouldn't!" he protested as she started to walk away, raising her hands to her hot cheeks. "Rose Tyler, you have a dirty mind!"

Dirty mind? Sin wrapped in chocolate? Orgy of taste? Good kiss? She had the dirty mind?

Rose narrowed her eyes and turned to give him another mouthful. But he'd got his own.

His tongue was wrapped around the ice-cream, licking waves of vanilla cream over and around, the crests of ice-cream trailing on his pink tongue in swirls as he pulled it into his mouth, sucking his cheeks in to get the full flavour, the action bringing those to-die-for cheekbones into play.

He dived in for another taste, cupping his lower lip over a stream of sauce and coating it in red berry delight. Another sweep of his tongue caught a tiny frosted nut and he dragged it into his mouth, his pearly teeth biting down hard. The nut exploded, crunchy shards of nutty goodness crushed beneath his teeth and sucked down into his long slender throat.

Rose whimpered. Oh god, that wasn't fair.

"Mmmm," he groaned and the sound shivered down Rose's back.

His eyelashes drifted against his cheeks and he moaned deep in his throat as his mouth curled around the ice-cream like a lovers kiss. He wasn't eating it so much as making love to it.

Rose closed her eyes, her mantra tumbling around in her brain faster and faster until it resembled a chanted encouragement.

Don't jump the Doctor, don't jump the Doctor. Go jump the Doctor.

No, she wasn't going to give in. The Doctor did not see her like that. He was just naturally –abastard—orally fixated and was enjoying his food.

She wasn't going to step over there and dump the ice-cream down his shirt then offering to lick it off. She wasn't going to give in. she wasn't.

"Are you sure I can't tempt you, Rose?"

Her eyes slammed open at the hedonistic tone, the pure fierce longing in that deep seductive voice.

But there was something… Rose narrowed her eyes as she watched him, watched his eyes as he lazily regarded her. There was something in that expression; beneath the innocent question and random acts, hidden but still there, almost calculating. Was he…? He was!

Rose almost gaped. He was doing this one purpose. Thebastard!

What, did he think it would be funny to get her all riled up? Typical bloody man! Right. He thought he was going to tease Rose Tyler? He didn't know the meaning of the word.

This meant war.

Rose cocked her head and gave a slow steady smile. "You know, I wouldn't actually mind a lick." Her teeth caught her lower lip as she sashayed closer, her eyes on the treat and not on his. "Just a small nibble."

She stopped in front of him, all innocence and sweetness. "Is that okay, Doctor? Just a teeny, tiny … tiny taste?"

His throat worked but nothing came out of his mouth as it opened and closed.

Rose pouted. "Have you changed your mind, Doctor? Am I not allowed a small bite of your sweet? I won't take much, promise!" she purred.

He swallowed and tried again. "Ok—," a less shrill tone would suffice, "Okay, Rose. Have as much as you want."

Rose beamed at him and ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth. "Ta."

Closing her eyes, Rose ducked her head and wrapped her lips around the base of the confection, like she'd seen him do. She closed her mouth, sucking her lips together in a pursed pout as she lapped the vanilla ice-cream. With a mischievous glance she opened her eyes and darted her tongue out, capturing a small trickle of berry sauce where it had dribbled down close to the Doctor's tight fist, her tongue barely grazed his knuckle before she pulled her head away and brought a finger up to her lip, harnessing the escaping drop.

"Hmm," she moaned. "You're right, that is good."

"Guh," he managed.

She pulled away and gave him her brightest smile. "Thanks."

And with that she turned and walked away leaving the Doctor staring behind her.

That, thought the Doctor, was not how it was supposed to go.

He'd had it all planned out; ice-cream, seductive licking, tempting words, heated desire, Rose throwing the ice-cream onto the sand and dragging him back to the TARDIS for repeated bouts of … well, he wasn't fussy—although scrabble wouldn't feature heavily there.

But that clever, clever minx had managed to turn the tables on him, yet again. Instead of throwing herself at him and ravishing him she'd neatly turned the tide and had him panting and wishing that she wasn't wearing quite so many clothes.

Oh, she was not only clever and beautiful and tempting she had an iron will and a sneaky side to match his.

Rose Tyler was, to put it plainly, perfect.

So, maybe it was time to step up his plan of getting her to make the first move. It was time that she realised just who she was dealing with. It was time she understood that the Doctor was playing for keeps.

It was time for war.


	4. Chapter 4

Games of the orally fixated part 4- Turning the tables

The Doctor had read Lolita some time in his fourth incarnation. Before then, the idea of sex and sexuality had been something that he regarded almost as he did ice-skating—something interesting and entertaining but not really for him.

His fourth incarnation, however, had been somewhat more open-minded and he'd finally given into the temptation to read some of those "classics" that had been touted by his previous companions.

He couldn't say he enjoyed the book; precocious children with a premature awareness of their own illicit allure held no appeal for him and men with weak wills and heavy libido's left him tossing the volume aside in resignation over man's weaknesses and disgust for what passed as entertainment.

The one thing he did remember though was the picture from the later film based—loosely—on the book, of the beautiful young girl with pigtails and short skirt, lying on her beach blanket lost in her book. It was a childlike and yet erotic picture; a mixture of both innocence and artifice that drew him in…from a purely philosophical point of view, of course.

It was, however, eclipsed by the far more enticing one that was in front of him.

Rose Tyler sat in the plastic chair, her feet braced against the console with a book in her lap. Her hair was in tidy little blonde plaits by each side of her rosy cheeks, the ends tickling her face.

She would have presented a sweet image of an industrious student; if it wasn't for the lollipop.

Where the hell Rose had got a cherry red lollipop from, on board the TARDIS, the Doctor had no idea, but he was torn between chastising the blue box and getting down on his knees in thanks.

His plans for the evening had been forgotten as she settled in and started…to suck.

The Doctor had been intending to fix the lateral transformers on the underside of the control panel as they'd been playing him up for some time. He'd taken off his jacket and had slunk underneath the console to start rewiring.

He'd paused in his ministrations when Rose's bare legs appeared in his field of vision and she crawled into the plastic chair by the console. He'd come out to smile at her and was slightly taken aback at her short denim skirt and halter top since it wasn't often that Rose exposed that much skin.

His gaze danced along the satiny soft skin of her toned legs and past luscious curves before meeting her dancing eyes and darting quickly back to the lateral transformers.

"Nice outfit," he'd said nonchalantly and Rose just smiled.

"Don't mind me; I'm just catching up on some reading."

That had been over an hour ago and it was getting steadily harder to ignore the girl in her seat.

With each slight shift to her position, the Doctor was aware of her like a magnet slowly drawn to another. Attentive to every breath, aware of each heartbeat and pulse point; he could hear the slide of skin against skin as she crossed her legs and the whisper of material when she turned the page.

Every sigh held his attention and every rustle dragged his eyes back to her form. He was making very little headway on his task and then she dragged out the lollipop from her pocket and 'very little' changed to 'none at all'.

He watched in rapt enthrallment as Rose delicately unwrapped the treat from its cellophane wrapper, her pink-tipped fingers manipulating the transparent material in one hand as she absently turned the page with the other.

His eyes followed the smooth movement of her wrist as she brought the sweet to her mouth with such aching slowness that his hand clenched the forgotten wires in anticipation.

The red circle of crystalline sugar disappeared into her hot mouth and plump, glossy lips closed around the white stick.

His own mouth went dry as her sharp cheekbones arched and her eyes closed in brief enjoyment of her delicious snack.

Rose sunk down in the seat and her head arched back, exposing her long slender neck for his spellbound gaze.

He imagined going over her there and biting at that throbbing pulse point, nibbling at her delectable collar bone and running his tongue up her jaw to bite her ear lobes.

With a slight shudder, as if she had read his thoughts, Rose returned to her book, eyes flickering over the page to find her place whilst her mouth worked at the lollipop.

The Doctor swallowed hard as she reached for the end of the stick and dragged the sweet in and out of her mouth, her tongue curling around the red slick circle.

Pearly white teeth nipped at the head of the confection and her tongue swirled over it, licking and sucking at the cherry goodness.

In his 900 odd years (some very odd) the Doctor had found few things as captivating as the sight of that sugary sweet disappearing and being wound around the mouth of one human girl.

She didn't even know what she was doing.

Rose bit back a grin as the Doctor swallowed again and looked down at the wires in his hands as if he wasn't sure quite what they were.

She leaned back, rubbing her hand across the top of her chest and could see his eyes follow the motion intently, a heated look burning in his pupils.

With a mew of amusement she curved her lips around the sweet and let her expression show her delight at her book. She pulled the lollipop out of her mouth and trailed it along her lips, pretending that she was lost in the tale that was being spun for her.

In truth she had no idea what was going on in the story and would be hard pressed to even tell the title of the story.

She was far too interested in the Doctor's reaction to her little game and she was well rewarded for her patience.

As the red sucker trailed over her lips, leaving a small trace of wetness behind on her luscious mouth the Doctor felt his control waver.

He wanted to go over there and yank the book from her lap throwing it in lustful abandon to lay discarded against one wall while he captured her attention.

He wanted to fuse her lips to his and see what the lollipop tasted like second hand, devouring her heat and savour her unique flavour. He wanted to bite down on those lips and feel the satiny softness of her legs for himself.

He wanted to haul her to him and caress those curves, drag his fingers through her hair and tug out those braids, winding through the wavy tendrils and sliding his tongue into her mouth, hearing her groans and moans echo in his ears as she surrendered to him. She'd throw her head back and allow him to scrape his teeth along her collar, leaving possessive trails of ownership on her skin.

She'd turn to putty in his hands, melting beneath his touch as he wrung every nuance of pleasure out of her nerves. He'd take off her clothes one by one until she was spread beneath him in all her glory and he'd slide within, inch by agonising inch heightening the seduction with whispered declarations and intentions until she was shaking in his embrace and then he'd watch her come apart under his hands, writhing in desire and ecstasy until she started to splinter; back arching and hands grasping for him, screaming his name like he was her own personal deity, screaming for her…

"Doctor?"

He jumped, his fevered imaginings amalgamating Rose's voice with his fantasy, and with a frustrated tension his hands clenched involuntarily.

He heard a distinct crack and stared down with some surprise at the broken sonic screwdriver.

Bugger.

Rose stared at the broken piece of metal with some consternation and no little amusement.

The Doctor held it up to the light.

"Oops?" Rose offered, biting down on her lip.

"It snapped!" he sounded heart-broken. "I snapped it!"

"Why would you do that?" she asked pseudo-innocently.

He opened and closed his mouth several times trying to come up with any other explanation than "spontaneous erotic combustion".

"Well, you see, Rose," he began, rubbing his ear, "when the rewiring flux on the temperature gauge gets too exacerbated, the heat can transcend the electrical circuits, transfer to alternate sources within the same molecular structure and excite the atoms to the same—"

"English please?" Rose challenged and he looked away.

"Err the backlash made it hot, fragile and it sort of melted."

Rose giggled but straightened her face quickly at the Doctor's continued dismay.

"Poor thing, can it be fixed?"

He sniffed. "With some TLC and a melding iron, maybe even a sonic constructor, it'll take time but she'll soon be good as new."

Rose smiled and stood up. "I'll let you get back to that then, won't do to distract you."

"Distract me?" he said with a casual tone which was so obviously fake Rose grinned.

She gathered her book with a secret smile and turned her back. "I think I'll go and have a hot shower. I could do with the soothing pound of water on my back. Nothing like a good massage to get the muscles feeling all nice and relaxed."

With that last comment Rose left the Doctor alone in the console room, his throat dry and pulse racing.

"D—" he cleared his throat and tried again. "Don't bother to leave any hot water for me." He looked down. "I don't think I'll be needing it."


	5. Chapter 5

Games Part 5- Rubbing up the wrong way

Games Part 5- Rubbing up the wrong way

Rose was sure that somewhere in her twenty odd—some very odd—years of life, she'd seen something that made her speechless.

Maybe it was the first time she'd seen her boyfriend have his head pulled off, or maybe it was the moment she met a blue man on a space station at the end of the Earth.

Perhaps she'd been struck dumb when the Earth exploded or took that first step onto the same snow Charles Dickens stepped on. She could have been startled into silence when being possessed by a living trampoline or rendered mute with the arrival of a certain French woman.

It could have been the sight of polite Ood or Daleks, or Cybermen. It could have been seeing her mother turned into a Cyberman or even her own Doctor bursting into a golden ball of light.

Somewhere in her life she must have been awestruck, thunderstruck or gob smacked.

But this…this was something new.

Rose stood in the control room, her jaw hanging about floor level, watching as the Doctor straddled the console, his hands rubbing the central column up and down in rhythmic motions.

She had a great view of his jacketless form, muscles rippling under his thin shirt and nicely rounded rear bumper, but that was an afterthought. The main one was due to come of her mouth in a strangled whimper as he reared up on his knees to stroke the column again, his thighs gripping the temporal displacer.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she queried shrilly.

He glanced over his shoulder, his face betraying none of the embarrassment that Rose would feel should she have been caught in his position. In fact, he beamed at her like it was the most natural thing in the world to be caught mid-whatever with his ship.

"Hello, Rose. I didn't hear you come in."

She bit her tongue against the obvious, and rather x-rated, rejoinder and looked pointedly at his compromising perch astride the console.

"Well, you were…busy."

He nodded with a smile. "Yep, just giving the old girl a working over. She likes to feel pampered occasionally."

Rose blinked. He did this often?

As if reading her thoughts he nodded in satisfaction. "Oh, she only needs doing say once a millennia but it is relaxing for her and I like doing it. Makes us both feel good."

That was a little too much information for Rose, although it did explain how he could spend decades with just him and his machine. The TARDIS was really big, they could christen each room.

She snatched her hand away from the door suddenly feeling weird to be touching the TARDIS. She wrinkled her nose.

The Doctor pointed at her. "Oi, don't wrinkle your nose at me, missy, little bit of cleaning wouldn't go amiss in your room either, you know."

Rose felt like she had missed two pages at once. "What?"

He slid off the console and held up a damp rag that had been hidden in his hands. "A bit of polishing is actually quite relaxing. In fact on Slepia it's considered something of an art form. They have cleaning competitions and championships and ooh I like the waxing festival of Saturn. They really know how to polish things; it's why the rings around Saturn gleam so brightly. Made a whole empire out of cleaning products. It's brilliant!"

Rose's lips started to twitch. "You were cleaning the TARDIS, polishing the central column?"

"Of course," he said idly as he turned to rub a speck of dust off the internal dimensions lever. "Why what did you think I was doing?"

He froze as Rose started to giggle behind her hand and he spun around, mouth agape.

"Rose Tyler! You have a dirty mind! As if I would…I would never…that's just," he cocked his head suddenly intrigued, "although…no!"

He pointed at a blushing Rose. "Bad Rose."

But she couldn't stop the case of giggles that consumed her as she thought back to her initial assumptions. It was a perfectly valid rationale to his actions and she had no right to be ashamed of her—

Okay, maybe her mind did live in the gutter these days, but it was his own fault.

He of the tight trousers and sexy talk. He of the ice-cream, oral fixation and the sudden unwillingness to shave.

"Oh, I've always wanted to see what I look like with a beard. Plus shaving is far too perilous. I cut myself—see?"

"Right, just for that, you can help me!" He decided amidst her laughter and threw the rag at her. Rose dodged to avoid the grimy cloth and had to pick it up off the floor.

"Come on, Rose, get your hands dirty."

She had all sorts of comments to that but the look on his face was knowing enough to put her off.

Rose shot him a filthy look and advanced on the console. She dropped the cloth onto the circuit and started to move it.

The Doctor's hand shot out and grabbed hers tightly. "Ah, best not actually press that button, Rose, you don't want to jettison us off to the Caribbean…without the TARDIS."

As she stared down at his hand, and by connection the whole console, she was struck with sudden alarm at what could happen if she pressed the wrong shiny button or nudged the wrong lever.

Explosions, destructions, annihilation… and those were the good things.

She paled.

"Uh, maybe cleaning's not for me."

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "Anyway, I've done down here, what we really need is to polish the column so we can see the lag in temporal pulsations. The geographic and special coordinates are directly affected by the undulations in the crystalline cylindrical tubes which can be diverted from accustomed operational harmony by dust, rust or even distortions in the time, space vortex. If we're off by a centimetre or nanosecond in fluctuated equilibrium it could mean the difference between an hour and millennia."

Rose gazed at him blankly and he looked at her like she'd just dribbled down the front of her shirt.

He sighed heavily. "Tubes go whoosh, whoosh. Dust stops whoosh. If whoosh is a second too late, we land twenty years early. Comprende?"

Rose's eyes narrowed. "If whoosh too early Doctor gets hit around the head by patronised companion, yeah?"

He looked embarrassed. "Ah. Right. Sorry."

Rose couldn't resist his sheepish little smile and she forgave him quickly. "All right then, so best clean the column, yeah?"

"Exactly. In fact you have smaller hands than me so maybe you could work around the bottom here and get into all the nooks where the column meets the console."

"Right!" Glad to be useful, Rose leaned over the hexagonal construct, careful not to press any of the buttons and started to clean out the various niches where dust bunnies lay hidden.

The Doctor, pleased with her willingness to help, got down on the floor and wriggled his way under the console trying to clean out the undersides of the vortex manipulator.

They worked in companionable silence for a long while; the only sounds those of vigorous scrubbing and laboured breathing.

The Doctor frowned as he pulled something that seemed lodged in the circuits and a grin spread across his face as a long recorder emerged.

A bark of laughter had Rose leaning down to peer at him.

He brandished the recorder like a long lost trophy.

"Hey, Rose, look at this, I haven't seen it in ooh eight regenerations at least!"

She glanced down at him, a smear of dust across her nose and giggled. "You used to play that?"

"I was champion recorder player across three galaxies, thank you very much!" he said with mock affront and gave it a quick blow.

The end erupted in an explosion of dust and dirt.

Once he'd finished coughing and sneezing he winced and rubbed his face free of grime. "Hmm, maybe it needs cleaning first."

"Ya think?" she sassed and turned back to cleaning.

He opened his mouth to retort back but was distracted.

Very distracted.

He'd always known that Rose had a nice figure. She was curved in the right places and soft and warm to touch. He liked to hug her and he often admired her from afar.

But watching her bent over the console, her back waving from side to side as she slid into the movements of rubbing the TARDIS clean, he found himself more than admiring.

He was…leering? Ogling? Could he even ogle? Was there a nicer word for what he was doing? Maybe appreciating… yes, that was nice and oooh she stretched.

There was grace in her movements as she stretched and writhed but he was more interested in the way she contorted to reach the hard-to-get-to places.

Rose really was very…flexible.

A flush covered his face as all the ways she could bend came into his head in floods and drives of images. Bent over the console, arched back over the sofa seat, sprawled over the kitchen table, legs wrapped, arms entwined.

His throat went dry as his mind got dirtier.

He slouched down and licked his lips watching as she wriggled to the left, narrowly missing the leader cable and lifting one leg to reach further.

He let his eye run up the denim clad calf and to her thigh where the seam ran just where he'd like to have his first bite. The tight fitting jeans curved around her delicious rear bumper and turned into soft cotton as it slid over her spine, gracefully arching to reach for a speck of dust, arms circling the struts of the console so as to keep balance.

I want to knock you off balance, came the unbidden thought, I want to have you so unsteady you can't think around me, I want you to be under my thrall, devoted, dedicated, hopelessly mine. Enslaved to me…like I am to you.

He bit down on his lip, desperate longing making him want to sigh. But he didn't. He simply looked his fill, letting his eyes wander up to the curve of her neck, the tilt of her head, the amusement of her eyes.

Wait.

She was watching him, a knowing look on her face.

He sat up quickly and cleared his throat. "I was just…just…checking! Yes, checking, make sure you're doing it right. After all the TARDIS needs to be clean and clear from dust else she might stop mid-whoosh and that would be bad. Very bad, catastrophic even."

"And am I?" Rose asked softly.

He blinked. "Are you what?"

"Doing it right?"

Her voice was low and seductive and grabbed him by the long forgotten part of him that dealt with desire and his mouth spoke before his brain got in gear. "I don't know, it's too far over here to see."

Rose spread her arms invitingly. "Then come over here and check."

It was an invitation and a challenge and one he was more than ready to step up to.

He wanted to step up to it. It had been so long and he needed her in ways he couldn't even say.

He slowly got to his feet, not sure if this was a great idea and made his way over to her. He stood behind her, enticed by her warmth and her scent.

She smelt so good.

The Doctor peered over her shoulder and pretended to inspect her work but he was so distracted by Rose herself that a herd of pygmies could have crept into the works and he wouldn't have noticed—or cared.

He was so close to her he could feel the denim against his legs, the cotton against his jacket and her body heat warming him through and through.

He stepped even closer; back to chest, heart to hearts thrumming in an intensity that the galaxy understood.

His hands drifted to her shoulders and slid down her arms, tickling the skin across her elbows, feeling the satin softness and causing his fingertips to tingle. His hands covered hers and he led her fingers still clutching the rag to the column, bending them both over to reach the hard places.

Her hair tickled his cheek as he lay across her back, his breath against her nape, cool puffs sending shivers down her spine that pulled him even closer.

Rose was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he cradled her in his arms, all but lying on the TARDIS controls. He led her tiny fingers into one of the panels and pushed hard.

Rose bit her lip and let her head fall back against his shoulder, eyes closed, mouth turned towards him.

Cheery lips invited him to kiss, soft cheeks demanded a nudge to test their softness and he caved, moving in for the sweetest defeat.

His mouth descended and he felt her breath against his cheek, against his lips and he was so close, so very close…

Rriinng!

The Doctor jumped back, dropping the rag into the controls and raising his hands. "What, what, what?"

Rose cursed. "It's my phone." She dug the ringing abomination out of her pocket and looked from it to the blushing and very aroused Doctor. "It's probably mum."

He swallowed, the mood gone and sanity all but restored. "Right well, you should answer that then, could be an emergency—run out of lip gloss or tracksuits or something…very important mother domestic stuff." He stumbled back.

"Doctor?" Rose pleaded with her eyes but he was in full retreat.

"I just have to go and…go and…go."

Rose watched in despair as he turned on his heel and all but fled.

What was that all about? He'd been flirting with her all these months and doing everything to make her want him and now, just when they were so close he ran away?

The shrill ringing of her phone distracted her and she hit the answer button.

"Someone better be dead," she growled.

Just around the edge of the door the Doctor peered over and watched as she answered the phone.

He leaned back and slammed his head against the frame.

Dammit! Damn Jackie and tracksuits and Earth and every single womble that lay therein.

He'd been so close to having her this time. So very close. All she'd had to do was throw the stupid phone down and grab him, kissing him passionately, and that would have been it, he'd have won.

But no, like the majority of the female population on Earth she couldn't just leave the damn phone; had to answer it.

He regretted ever super-boosting her mobile.

The Doctor groaned, still able to feel Rose against her and for a moment considered just surrendering and walking back in there, tossing her across his shoulders and dragging her to his room. He was sure she wouldn't complain.

But no. He'd started this war with the desire to make her come to him. To ensure that it was what she really wanted and he wasn't just imprinting his desires onto her. Then it became about her surrender, her willingness to throw off those pesky human insecurities and impediments and developing.

He could wait, he thought, gritting his teeth. He could wait for Rose to come to him, to take the initiative and jump him.

He just hoped she did it before he exploded.


	6. Chapter 6

Games Part 6-

That was it. Rose had had it.

She paced back and forth in her room, her footsteps making a dull thud against the carpeted floor as she strode from the bed to the door and back again.

Since his regeneration Rose seemed to have spent most non 'running-for-her-life' time pacing in here and a grove was starting to wear in the thick pile.

That stupid, arrogant, egotistical, manic, bi-polar, nut job!

She knew he was trying to drive her crazy; knew he was trying to make her positively implode with lust and she was so close to doing just that.

Bloody Time Lord.

She'd almost had him; she'd been so close to the Doctor finally giving in and succumbing to the tension between them. He'd had her up against the TARDIS console for heaven's sake and then... and then... just when she thought they'd finally kiss, her bloody mobile rings and he runs away like a Yurric in the Olren Games.

Rose huffed and kicked out at the bedstead, stubbing her foot and cursing in Venusian. She hopped twice, cradling her poor toe before sinking despondently to the mattress.

It was getting ridiculous now, pens and ice cream and cream cakes and lollipops and cleaning the TARDIS.

She was so turned on around him that cleaning the console had almost sent her over the edge.

Cleaning!

God, she was pathetic.

But she couldn't let him win, she couldn't be the one to take their relationship to the next level no matter how much both of them seemed to need it because, if she did, she would never be sure if it is what he really wanted or if he was just reacting to her.

Damn him, why did he have to make things so difficult?

He was a bloke... sort of... why didn't he just man up and plant one on her? Why did he have to play these games and drive her out of her mind?

Maybe she should just walk up to him, grab him by the tie and drag him back to her bedroom?

Rose grinned at the thought of his expression were she to do that. Poleaxed and possibly petrified.

No, she had to be subtle. She had to get the Doctor to come to her. She had to make him so insane with lust that he had no choice but to jump her.

She lay back on the bed and nibbled her lip, deep in thought.

What did the Doctor find entrancing about her? What could she use that would make him let go completely?

What did he spend ages staring at-

Oh.

A slow smile slid over her lips.

Perfect.

"-need it, don't need it, don't need it, need it, need it, what is that?" The Doctor held the piece of metal up to his face and tilted his head.

It could be the remnants of an interstellar forcefield manipulator, it could be a piece of space debris, a Ghi'lan Horse whip or maybe it was a...

He frowned.

"Paper clip! Could possibly need it." he threw it into one pile and continued digging through the drawer.

The TARDIS had gotten thoroughly stuck in the mud on their last adventure and refused to land until she had soaked up some vortex energy. Rose had complained about never being able to find anything in the study and so he'd decided that it was time for a spring clean.

Or a good old root around, see what he could find. He'd already found the first prototype sonic screwdriver- well, it had been more of a sonic spanner at the time- and the first copy of Love's Labours Lost signed by Shakespeare himself, a fragment of Big Bang debris, a perfume bottle shaped like a banana, two hundred year old Jelly babies and a small tribe evolved from pencil shavings.

He chewed on a Jelly Baby and rifled through the debris.

"Need it, need it, don't need it, euch!" His face wrinkled in disgust as something slithered under his hand and darted into the depths of the drawer.

He peered into the gloom. Something moved in the shadows.

"Hello!" he whispered softly. "What are you then? Come on out, I'm not going to hurt you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his specs, leaning in closer. "Hello?"

"Are you talking to yourself again?"

A smile flitted across his face as he heard Rose enter the room. He didn't turn his head, though, his eyes intent on uncovering what life form was setting up shop in his study desk.

"Nope, there's something living in here," he paused, "something else."

"What?"

The Doctor poked the debris. "Could be a new life form, could be a spider, not sure." He licked his lips and chewed at his bottom lip. "He seems to be shy, whoever he is."

"May-be yhou should leave him alohne,"

"Yhou?" The Doctor wrinkled his nose, "you sound funny."

"Sore throat," Rose whispered, "think I'm coming down with something."

"Oh, poor you, maybe we should-" he lifted his head and what they should do dribbled out of his brain along with any other form of intelligent thought.

Rose was standing in the doorway, the light from the corridor edging her in gold, making her skin a golden hue that seemed to emanate from her core.

She literally glowed. But that wasn't what caught the Doctor's attention.

No.

Rose was wearing a short, silk, red night dress.

Short. Silk. Red.

He swallowed.

Rose wasn't one for parading around in very little. She wore jeans and t-shirt like her own personal armor and it had only been recently that she started mixing it up; shirts and trousers and the very occasional skirt. But nothing immodest, nothing too flirtatious or revealing. And now this.

It was like being brought up sweet-free and suddenly being handed a bar of Cadbury's.

Rose, red silk, Cadbury's.

His mouth watered. She looked like the biggest shiniest present in the whole Universe and all he wanted to do was get up, walk over and unwrap it.

Except he couldn't quite remember how to move his legs. They'd gone numb.

Rose smiled at him and stepped into the room.

"Doctor?"

Her voice was low and deep and shot straight to his... well, he wasn't completely numb below the waist.

She inclined her head and licked her lower lip, his eyes traced it with intense fascination.

"I'm not feeling so hot," she whispered her breathy voice sending exactly the wrong type of sensations through him.

"Uh," it was less a word and more a exhalation but it seemed to satisfy a niche in the conversation.

Rose let her hand drift lazily up to her throat and she rubbed it gently, tilting her head back and letting a small moan rip from her lips.

"Sore."

Yes he was.

Oh, her. Right yes.

The Doctor cleared his throat. Poor Rose. Here she was not feeling very well and all he was doing was ogling her.

Ogle. What a horrible word. Almost as bad as objectify and wasn't he doing well for remembering words right now. Ogle. Objectify. Stare. Gawk. Leer. Let eyes linger on that soft expanse of...

"Sorry?" He managed, his own words coming out suspiciously raspy.

"I feel really sick," she said, "Maybe I caught something from running in the rain the other day."

His back brain caught up with his... other brain and he cleared his throat. "Ah."

Genius. True Genius. This was Rose who was feeling ill. He wanted to be comforting and suave and charming.

"Guh."

But apparently she'd short circuited his mind.

Rose sighed and looked despondently at him. "Is there anything you can for me?" she whispered hoarsely, her mouth open in a little pout, tongue peeking out.

Anything he could do for her?.

Oh, she had no idea. He'd been a teenager once with the whole of Time and Space in front of him. He'd been to Pleasure planets where two words could make you come and three would have you begging for more. He could do things with his tongue that were illegal in five star systems and his hands had been outlawed in the Hedra Galaxy. He'd been horny and curious and eager to learn and right now he wanted to do things to Rose that they didn't even have a name for yet.

Anything he could do for her? Just stop him.

He lurched to his feet, eyes intent on his Rose.

A Rose who was standing in red silk and biting her lower lip with something in her eyes that made him...

Hold on, wait a minute.

He stopped so abruptly that he almost fell over his own feet.

They didn't go running in the rain. At least not recently. They'd run from fish with lances and Tetrahedron's with a grudge but not in actual rain.

Which meant that Rose had made that up.

Which meant that Rose was lying.

Rose wasn't sick.

He peered at her closely.

In fact Rose was the very picture of health.

Healthy Rose with not much on and a gleam in her eye.

That Minx!

Rose had somehow realized that his tactile sense would register off the charts with something as sumptuous as red silk and she had acted accordingly. Even now the thought of running his tongue across the satiny material was enough to make his trousers tight and his hearts race.

She knew that the combination of Rose and silk would be enough to make him lose what little restraint he had.

He was almost impressed with her deviousness.

But he had no intention of being the first to cave. It was not only a game but it was about pride now. He could be patient.

Well, actually, he couldn't. Was known for not being patient in fact. He'd deliberately skipped seven years and bought the whole box set of Harry Potter straight after the first one had been released. Then he'd gone straight to 2011 and watched all of the movies in one sitting.

So no, he wasn't known for his patience.

But he could and that was the important thing.

Well, he couldn't but he was sneaky and that was what mattered.

Rose was still staring at him with that come-hither look and it took precious seconds for him to recall what he had been going to do.

Rose said she was ill; well, maybe he should treat her like she was.

This would require no great restraint and acting like Dench.

He took a deep breath and strode forwards, his eyes locked to hers, no deviation to any skin whatsoever.

He reached up clinically and placed a hand on her forehead.

Rose blinked.

"Oh, Rose," he breathed, "you do feel hot."

He inwardly smirked as he heard her breath hitch.

"But!" He bounced on his heels and turned away. "I've got just the thing for that. Bed rest and a nice Jaccasian face mask."

"Face mask?" Rose's voice was more flat than flirty and he bit back a grin.

He reached over and placed a hand on the small of her back, the silk sliding sensuously against his palm like water. The nerve endings in his hand tingled and he closed his eyes, fighting for control.

I will not jump Rose. I will not jump Rose.

He pressed his hands firmer against her skin and managed to get her to turn.

"Oh yes, the Jaccasians had a marvelous regime to eradicate colds and flu from any time period. Of course the actual ingredients in the mask... well, better not even think about it- like sausages, it's best to just enjoy and not inquire. Except if you're allergic to rancid cream of blatmuck grubs?"

Rose's healthy hue faded slightly as he herded her down the corridor to her room.

"Blatmuck grubs?"

Yep, nothing sexy about blatmuck grubs. Not even to other blatmuck grubs.

It was almost enough to make him forget that she was wearing a small slip of nothing. A tiny slip of nothing that could so easily slide off and fall, leaving her...

she stopped abruptly cutting off his train of thought.

"Hmm?"

"My room," she said with a small smile.

He looked up. Obviously the TARDIS had decided to move her room closer, else he'd been daydreaming about silk-less Rose for longer than he thought.

"Right," he mustered, "your room. Rose's room, the room of Rose. I'll tell you what, you go in and get into bed and I'll go make tea. Tea with tannins, good for what ails you, yeah?"

Rose eyed him for a moment, face oddly blank and then a slow smile tripped over her lips. "Tea?" her voice dropped another octave and she drew out her next words like torture. "I like mine sweet. Wet. And hot." She bit her lip. "Can you manage that?"

Then she swept into her room and closed the door behind her.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, leaning his head against the door.

She was going to kill him. He was literally going to regenerate from desire. Death by UST. It could happen.

Right, well before he died he was going to make tea.

He looked down.

Shower first, then tea.


	7. Chapter 7

Games 7

Rose leaned against the console and stared at the flickering lights on the monitor.

It had become something of a game to watch them blink in sequence; red, green, blue, mauve. Red, green, yellow, mauve. Red, green, blue, mauve. It was almost hypnotic the way they started in the far corner and slowly slid down the screen.

Once Rose had asked the Doctor what the lights meant, what pattern they were spelling out and he had given her that look, the one which implied that she needed a bib.

"This frankly magnificent non-sequential formation serves the dual purpose of entertainment and to prevent phosphor burn-in on the mainframe of the CRT interface."

Rose had put this through her 'Doctor filter'.

She'd blinked at him. "It's a screen saver?"

"No," he'd scratched his ear, "well, yes."

And that had been that.

Still, it was very pretty and kept her occupied whilst the Doctor completed his very important errand that he'd just had to run while she waited in the console room.

Twenty minutes ago.

Twenty long minutes ago.

And frankly she was bored of waiting; of course that was nothing new.

Rose was fed up of waiting for some many things.

Fed up of waiting for the invention of the calorie free chocolate bar. Fed up of waiting for the TARDIS to land them on Erat Bulova with its rainbow aardvarks and snow that smelled of lemon. Fed up of tripping over spare parts of toasters whenever she went to make breakfast, oh,

and she was FED UP of waiting for the Doctor to make a move.

Seriously, she had to have had more cold showers in the past few months than Mickey had ever had in his life. She was in severe danger of getting hyperthermia.. or was it hypothermia... whichever meant that she would be frozen to death before the unresolved sexual tension drove her completely insane.

She needed distraction, damn it or she was going to cave and for the good of women everywhere and, basically because he'd be impossible to live with if she did, she had to hold herself back.

No matter how much she wanted to just say 'screw it' and grab him by the tie and yank him into her bedroom for the next two years.

The thought made her hands curl and she slammed them against the console, making the TARDIS hum in protest.

Rose immediately felt guilty. It wasn't the TARDIS's fault that the Doctor was a stupid male. Girls had to stick together.

She rubbed her hand over the control she had just smacked and the TARDIS hummed softly, telling her that she was forgiven.

Rose smiled. "Sorry, girl."

She massaged the back of her neck and groaned.

"This," she declared, "is killing me. I'm gonna go get his Lordship and we are gonna go save some planet or something, because if we don't, I'm gonna kill him... or maul him."

She glanced down at the console. "You ain't exactly helping. Can't you, I dunno, land us on one of the shag-or-die cliché planets? Or how about telepathically telling him to jump me."

The TARDIS gave a very low whine and Rose sagged. "Fine, but if you don't get us to a planet soon, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions!"

Rose turned on her heel and went to find the Doctor. If she couldn't jump him then she was going to make damn sure that they landed on a planet and were running for their lives.

She was going to get her frustrations out one way or another.

The TARDIS had been planted from a particle of space coral millennia ago. She had grown happily in a cerulean blue field with red grass and amber sky along with millions of other coral shards, some of who would grow up to become TARDIS's, other would become columns or integral parts to translation filters. Some would even one day become planets themselves, holding the whole of a civilization and history within their sacred spheres.

Then, with a flash and scream it had all gone, all of them burned and locked away tighter than a memory and the emptiness she felt was acute.

Her Doctor, the one who had taken her from that field and danced her across the universe, sliding in and out of trouble easier than she could navigate the vortex, was suddenly alone and in their telepathic link she could feel the hole where his soul used to be. His blackened and tortured psyche had warped and twisted the soft-hearted child that he had once been and the romantic dreamer he had remained and shattered him into pieces.

The final act of the Time War had been death. His Eighth reincarnation had been unable to handle the weight of two genocides and he had ripped himself, screaming and bleeding, into the war-hardened soldier that wore a leather jacket like a suit of armor.

Before the war they sailed through the universe, now they stormed it, leaving devastation in their wake.

Non-intervention had gone the way of Gallifrey and her Doctor, her once sweet, naive Doctor, ruthlessly squashed any hint of insurrection with the force of a dictator. His way was right and anyone who disagreed had just better get out of the way.

Civilizations could fall and he wouldn't blink, people could die and he looked the other way.

His heart formed a layer of ice and she was beginning to fear that nothing could break the shell.

Then along came the golden child. Oh, at first she had been all pink and yellow, another one in a long line of traveling companions that might distract the Doctor from himself.

But the pink one proved more than that, within hours she had made the dark Doctor smile. Within days she made him laugh, really laugh and that was when the TARDIS took a closer look at this mortal child.

She liked what she saw.

The pink one was sincere in her affections and delighted in her surroundings and the opportunity to grow so much more than other people from her time.

Her dedication to the Doctor had cemented her place both with in the ship and within his life.

He changed before their eyes, softening, the ice melting until his eyes once again shone with joy when he looked at his pink one and his two hearts sang.

The TARDIS and her Doctor loved their little pink one.

Which was why she let the pink child see into her heart. The pink one swallowed the whole of time and became more. She was the savior, the destroyer, the Bad Wolf and the golden child.

She took in the entire universe and saved him.

She saved him from the madness, from the darkness and from himself.

But she couldn't save his body and he regenerated.

His dying thoughts had been of her, hoping against hope that he would stay someone she could be with even though he derided himself for his folly.

The Doctor was always one for great passions: the Old Lords blamed it on his half-human heritage, but the truth is that deep emotions lay at the heart of all Time Lords but they feared to access it.

It was their downfall.

He burned with rebellion. He burned with justice. With indignation. With compassion.

But now he burns for her.

The golden child.

His hearts pound, his soul sings and he burns.

Yet fear lurks- as it always has- the consequence of childhood taunting.

Half-breed.

Not Gallifreyan enough.

Not detached enough.

Not smart enough.

Not brave enough.

And now, not human enough.

More than her, less than her. Not what she wants, not what she needs.

His circular thoughts echo around the room whilst she sleeps, a spiral of self-recrimination and doubt getting louder and louder, undermining his desire until his hands clench at the controls and his breath is ragged and it is all he can do not to crawl into her bed and beg her to allow him to be enough.

He fears rejection.

He fears himself.

The golden child wants and needs with such intensity and also fears his rejection.

Yet to protect her heart she believes this to be a game.

Maybe it is a game; a game in which the wrong outcome will be disaster. The wrong outcome will destroy not just three hearts but possibly two lives which would spiral out into the cosmos. They stop holding hands, the stop running, they stop saving lives. He drowns in his loneliness and the stars weep.

They do not know that their little game could cause the end of the universe.

The TARDIS will not allow that.

The Doctor and the golden child will be one. They have had time to start their little game and make their moves but the game drags on and all are tired of the play.

No one knows that there is another player.

And the TARDIS plays to win.

Game on.


	8. Chapter 8

Games 8

It was with a rather girly scream that Doctor jumped out of the shower.

He grabbed a fluffy towel off the rail and wrapped it around his skinny form, glaring at the offending cubicle.

"That," he said, "was not nice!"

And it hadn't been.

What had been nice was walking into the console room this afternoon, promising to take Rose to see the Rainbow aardvarks and lemon snow of Erat Bulova, and seeing her dressed in those tight denim jeans and knee high boots.

What had also been nice was the view she gave him as she bent over to retrieve her dropped hairgrips and the way her breasts lifted as she stuck her hair up in a loose ponytail.

What had been very nice was the smile she gave and the way she poked her tongue out at him in that playful way that made him want to see exactly how that tongue tasted his own mouth.

In a sexy kissing way, not a cannibal way.

What had been less nice was the sudden realization that he was breast man and that Rose's top was far too low for his peace of mind.

What was even less nice was the sudden reaction of his body to her teasing and the urge he got to drape her over the console and bite down just... there.

It probably wasn't nice to walk (run) away claiming an urgent errand before they landed and that she should just stay there.

The walk to the shower wasn't at all nice.

The cold shower hadn't been nice, but necessary.

The shower suddenly turning from freezing (and barely doing its job) to boiling was what had the Doctor screaming like a little girl and grabbing for his sonic screwdriver.

That really, really, wasn't nice.

And suddenly the word 'nice' lost all meaning for the Doctor as he brandished the... toothbrush.

Ah.

Oops.

"What was that for?" he pouted as he replaced the toothbrush and grabbed his sonic, switching the shower off with a quick flip of his finger. "Hey? I don't go around suddenly flooding you with boiling water do I?"

The TARDIS sent him a mental picture of him dropping his tea onto the console floor.

"Ah, yes, well," he scratched his ear, "there were extenuating circumstances."

And there had been.

Black flapper dress coming to erotic knees circumstances.

He'd never known knees could be erotic.

Hence the tea dropping.

"Oh, okay, so I doused you and you're getting revenge. Fine." He tucked the towel in firmer around his waist. "It's your fault if I drip water on the floor now, isn't it?"

There was a beat as he smiled smugly, assuming that he'd got one up on the TADIS, only to be reigned in by the sudden mauve flash that shot through the room followed by a ear-splitting siren.

And then a low resonating thud of a bell.

His hearts stilled.

"No, no, it can't be!" He turned on his heel and raced out of the bathroom.

The floor was slippery and cold beneath his bare feet as he hurtled down the corridor, turning sharply at the corner and skidding, slamming straight into a wall.

A soft wall.

His Time Lord sense reeled and he grabbed at the warm skin purely to stop himself falling over.

Well, almost purely.

Rose stared up at him in astonishment.

"Rose!" he said frantically, "What's wrong?"

He grabbed at her upper arms, almost shaking her in his worry and confusion.

Rose had been looking for the Doctor for the best part of ten minutes. He hadn't been in the library, or the study, or any of the twelve other rooms that he could have been in and she was getting fed up of looking for him when he had suddenly careened around the corner and was even now staring at her like her life was at stake.

The worry etched on his face was the usual one after life and death situations, but they were safe in the TARDIS.

Rose lifted her hands to his rapidly beating hearts and frowned.

"Rose!"

Rose shrugged. "Nothing's wrong, Doctor."

"What was the Mauve alert?"

Rose glanced around. "I didn't see any mauve alert, nothing was going off in the console room."

He stilled. "What about the alarms?"

She gave him a dubious look, "I didn't hear any alarms."

"But the cloister bell!"

Cloister bell, what's a cloister bell? Wasn't that something from Red Dwarf?

Rose shook her head. "No bells, whistles, alarms of any colour, let alone mauve. I just left the console, yeah, and everything was fine. You know except for the lack of Doctor, who'd left me to do something important."

She let her eyes fall from his, drifting lazily down his skinny bare chest, toasty warm against her fingers from his brief roasting in the shower. His torso glistened with water droplets, rivulets forming against his thin collar bone, pooling on top of his clavicle and sliding languorously down his chest, circling his belly button and catching in the folds of the fluffy white towel draped dangerously low on his hips.

Her eyes followed down his hairy runners legs, his long delicate feet and back up again, catching at his shaking hands, his freckled shoulder and ending with his wet hair, water hanging like teardrops from the ends of his tousled locks.

He was wet, worried and good enough to eat and he made her mouth water.

Hang on, he was supposed to be taking her to Eratta Bulldog or something. Why was he suddenly soaking?

"What was it? Emergency shower?"

"Yes," he said seemingly without thinking and Rose raised an eyebrow. "I mean, no. Well, the... the uh, aardvarks are very particular about scent and I realised that I smelled a little like the underside of the TARDIS engine and they...uh hate the smell of grease. Grease the engine oil, not Grease the Musical. Which doesn't really have a smell, although- "

"Shut up," Rose ordered and he obliged, more out of shock than anything. "You're lying."

"I'm not!" he said in a hurt tone.

"Yeah you are, you always start to ramble when you're lying." Rose thought a second. "And its different from your usual ramble.

He stared at her affronted. "I don't ramble."

Rose laughed out loud. "Yeah you do. They've even got different names. There's the "we're in danger and I need to buy time" ramble. There's the "This situation is uncomfortable and I'm gonna keep talking til the ice breaks" ramble and then there's the "if I ramble long enough someone will spill their major plan" ramble."

His eyes widened. "Oh!"

"That one was a "I'm making this up as I go along" ramble." she frowned. That word sounded weird now.

He grinned widely, pride in his eyes and affection in his tone."Ramble is losing all meaning now, isn't it?"

"Sort of, yeah," Rose grinned and then poked him sharply, "but that doesn't change the subject. Why did you suddenly need to go for an emergency shower, Doctor?"

He opened and shut his mouth several times before lifting his hand and raking it through his damp hair. "That really isn't the point, Rose. What is the point is that there were sirens and alarms and a mauve alert just now which means that something is wrong with the TARDIS."

Rose stared at him for a beat.

He was on the defensive and she could push this, she knew she could and he would have to answer and maybe, just maybe, they could resolve this tension. But...

But maybe there was something wrong with the TARDIS, just because she didn't hear it didn't mean that there wasn't a siren. Just because he was back-peddling and being a baby about it all doesn't mean that she shouldn't let it go.

Was she going to let it go?

Was she going to let him get away with it? Was she going to cave and allow him to wriggle off the hook, once again going unsatisfied.

She sagged.

"I didn't hear anything, but we should check."

Chicken.

The Doctor beamed, relieved that he was free and took a step back, "Right well, first we should-"

But what they should do was lost as the TARDIS suddenly jolted causing the whole corridor to tilt sideways.

The Doctor careened forwards, slamming into Rose and knocking her to the ground.

He wrapped his arms around her as the corridor seemed to roll, the wall being floor then ceiling and back to wall again.

Rose closed her eyes as she was hurtled from hard surface to surface, the wind leaving her body in a whoosh. She concentrated on the two arms holding her safely, one hand in her hair protecting her head from being knocked around, firmly anchoring her to his body.

Finally the TARDIS stopped rolling and they lay together on the floor, Rose tucked beneath his cool body, breathing hard as her heart rate tried to return to normal.

She breathed in and felt her hands tighten on his back.

"Shh," he whispered against her neck, "we're safe now. She's stopped."

Rose nodded hesitantly and took another breath.

It was calming and it was soothing and it smelled of the Doctor. She breathed in again and got another waft of his unique scent; cinnamon and jam and male and spices and an odd sandalwood and leather aroma.

Then she felt the Doctor breathe in, his breath against her neck, sending tingles down her spine and suddenly, their safety was no longer first place in her mind.

Their position, however, was.

Laying on top of her was a firm, hard male body. His arms were still around her tightly, holding her in place, one hand twisted in her hair, still cushioning her head from the cold floor. His body was aligned with her own, his chest, hips and thighs pressed tightly against her own. His head lay against her shoulder each breath causing chills to run down her body.

His legs were twisted around hers, one underneath and one astride so that she was almost tucked between his legs.

His long legs.

His long bare legs which seemed to be missing something.

Like the towel that was currently laying across the hallway.

Her breath caught in her throat and a blush spread across her face.

Oh, holy crap, he was naked.

Naked and sprawled across her like his own personal teddy-bear.

He lifted his head and his gaze caught hers.

He smiled. "Hello."

"Hello," her voice wobbled.

His smile slipped and concern drifted over his features. "Are you okay? Rose are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

Not hurt.

Not really.

"Rose?"

"'m fine," she muttered, a smirk starting to drift over her lips. "But you seem to be missing something."

He frowned. "Like what?"

She looked to the side and his eyes followed hers to the white fluffy towel that was no longer firmly wrapped around his loins.

His eyes widened and blush started from his chest and swept over his face.

"Ah."

"Uh huh," Rose grinned. Pink suited the Doctor.

His eyes widened even further as something occurred to him and his head shot down to their entwined bodies, confirming what he suspected.

Red suited the Doctor even better.

"I'd better get off... I mean get on... move on, slide... oh Rassilon!"

Rose couldn't help but giggle as he spiralled into obscenities.

"That's number three," she whispered, "the 'uncomfortable situation' ramble. Or it is number four, the 'not sure where it goes' ramble."

His eyes widened even further. "Rose Tyler!"

She nibbled her lower lip. "I meant the situation, Doctor. Not sure where that goes."

"Oh."

"But if you need instructions..." she trailed off with a smile.

He swallowed and shifted slightly.

Rose hissed and the sound made him freeze.

He stared down at her, a million thoughts and emotions running across his face, hard to read but even harder not to look at.

His mouth hovered just above hers, his breathing ragged and she could feel his hearts pounding against her chest, two beats thrumming just over her aching breasts like a throbbing within.

A small whimper started in the back of her throat and his head lowered, his mouth a whisper above hers.

"Rose," he spoke into her mouth, his breath becoming hers and hers becoming his. Millimetres away from being a real honest kiss.

Her eyes drifted closed.

His hands reached out and snagged the towel as he darted up, sliding off Rose and across the hallways.

He was on the other side of the corridor before she even registered that he'd moved.

He draped the towel around his waist and stood, half hunched and gasping for breath.

Rose lurched to her feet, anger on her face and hurt accusation etched into her face.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded.

He tried to speak but couldn't, the words coming out a squeak. "R-ose, Rose, we... the TARDIS."

He took a deep breath. "I would... I mean, I do... but the bang and alert. Something is wrong. We may be in danger and until I know, we can't... Rose."

"What?" she ground out.

His eyes pleaded for her understanding, begged for her forgiveness and, logically, Rose knew that he had a point. If the TARDIS had sounded an alarm (even if she hadn't heard it) and then jolted them like that, then there was probably something wrong and they should check it out before doing anything else.

But damn if she wasn't aroused beyond words and ready to burst.

"Rose," his voice was hoarse.

"What?" she snarled.

"You're wet," one hand frantically clutched his towel the other gestured wildly to her chest.

Rose looked down. Slippery wet Doctor sliding all over her rendered her thin cotton shirt all but see-through, wet patches causing the material to stick to her.

By the Doctor's expression it was sticking in some interesting places.

His eyes were hot, his hands were shaking.

Rose snapped.

She grabbed for the hem of her shirt and in one smooth move pulled it over her head.

His slack-jawed expression registered only momentarily before she threw it in his face.

"Who's fault is that?" she growled and turned on her heel and marched back to her room.

The slam echoed around the TARDIS.


	9. Chapter 9

The human race had some really amazing sayings: a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, letting the cat out of the bag, nose to the grindstone- really, they were genius- and the Doctor had always found them to be the height of adorableness.

He'd even, way back when, tried to introduce some of them to Gallifrey during his brief stint as President; it had gone down as well as a lead balloon, but still, he had tried.

One saying he had always loved was the well known- in the doghouse.

However the reality was very very different from the word picture conjured up.

The Doctor was indeed, in the doghouse. And, it seemed, with more than one person.

He stood uneasily at the controls, his hair damp against his neck and body still slightly chilled from his second cold shower.

Rose stood behind him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes blazing, foot tapping and doing an alarmingly good impression of Jackie Tyler pre-slapping mode.

"Well?" she snapped.

He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably as a droplet of water slid off his hair and snaked down his spine, an icy finger drawing his attention to the danger inherent here.

Like he needed to be reminded.

Ten minutes ago he'd been naked and aware, lying on top of a very willing and very warm Rose Tyler. It was exactly... almost exactly... what he'd pictured for months and he'd been about to lean down, throw caution to the wind and just give in the undeniable attraction and need that pulsated between them.

His lips hovered above hers, she'd inhaled sending a cool rush of air over his over-sensitized skin and his own eyes had drifted closed to better luxuriate in the taste he'd so desperately wanted for so long.

But even as his eyes drifted shut his mind, ever alert, reminded him that the TARDIS had just tumbled in mid-flight. It recalled him to the fact that he'd seen the mauve alert flash and heard the cloister bell and that had to mean that something was wrong with the TARDIS.

Despite his fantasies, despite his desires and wants and needs i(and oh Rassilon did he need)/i there was no good shagging Rose Tyler senseless if seconds later they crash landed and were torn apart by wild beavers.

So he'd backed away babbling and trying to regain his senses only to have them blown to pieces by the pure unadulterated fury on Rose's face.

And then of course she'd ripped off her shirt and thrown it at him.

He'd momentarily been treated to a view of blue satin brassiere full of soft succulent Rose, only to have a face full of damp cloth and a slammed door echoing in his ears.

So he'd done what any self respecting Time Lord would do.

He'd legged it back for another shower and to take care of his 'problem' so that he could concentrate on his magnificently ibadly timed/i ship before taking care of his magnificently angry companion.

Only to find... this.

Rose's foot was tapping harder against the grating, her anger a very real thing in the room and the Doctor found himself almost cringing.

He straightened his back.

"Uh, well, there appears to be no malfunction of the temporal, spacial, or geothermic regulat-"

"Stop with the techno ramble," Rose interrupted. "I'm blonde, I'm not stupid. You're stalling for time. What. is. Wrong?" She enunciated each and every word.

He sagged. She could always see right through him.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing," he held up his hands to encompass the whole console. "I've run every test there is. There is nothing out there causing an attack or collision. We've landed but it's all perfectly normal and safe, gravity, oxygen levels even the time period and planetary system. There's nothing on the scanners. There's no interference. Life support, time distortion; nothing. Everything is functioning normally."

"So what was with the tuck and roll?"

He shrugged. "No idea. And," he took a deep breath, "she's not telling."

"What?"

The Doctor rubbed at his forehead. "Normally when she's had to engage evasive manoeuvres or sounded warning sirens she keeps a log. Just in case it turns out to be life-threatening she can send a distress and have a record of the threat but there's no log. No record. It's like nothing happened."

Rose snorted. "Gee, I wonder what that's like."

Ah sarcasm.

He took another deep breath. "You know, Rose-"

"So what are we gonna do then?" Rose gestured towards the doors. "Are we going to check it out and see if there's anything that made her go all weird?" Her voice drops to that low sarcastic drawl that makes his shoulder blades itch. "Or are you going to stay in here and play with your sonic?"

He eyed her. Now that he knew that there is nothing wrong with the TARDIS he could, theoretically, take up where they left off.

He could reach over and tug her to him, let his hands drift down her arms until his fingers linked with hers and then he could pull her in for their first non-psychograft kiss.

He could also get slapped for being a presumptuous ingrate and he really didn't want Rose to hit him.

Well...

No, not like that anyway.

He plastered a grin on his face. "Oh, Rose, you'll love this planet. Obron 6 is the best and friendliest planet is the Custer System. Brilliant festival of Tulips the size of golf carts. Everyone dresses up in bright colours and goes around sniffing each other. Brilliant!"

If he'd hoped to sway her mood more to his liking or more to the possible mood of seduction he was without luck.

"Friendly planet?" She asked.

"Yep!" He popped his 'p' happily.

"We'll be perfectly safe?"

"Yep."

"No war, famine, degradation, slavery, poverty, insane dictators, sentient shrubbery or amoeba with delusions of grandeur?"

A beat.

"Uh, nope?"

Rose sagged. "I'll get my running shoes."

She walked back into the TARDIS and the Doctor grinned happily.

"You won't regret this, Rose."

"Probably," he admitted, "should have said 'probably' won't regret this."

He stared around the little prison cell. "Still it's a much nicer cell that we've been in before. I mean, do you remember the one on Justicia? And on Blehnem Rigel Terrip? That one had things growing on the things growing in the ceiling. Oh and the dungeon on Pontoon's fourth Moon was disgusting. Herri was nice, though. The cells were bigger. And Earth has had some pretty nice jails. Do you remember the ones in the Tower that time, Rose? Rose?"

He turned away from inspecting the door to find Rose sat on the single bed with her feet up on a pink plush pillow munching on an apple and reading a book.

His words failed and he stared at her. "Wha-?"

She ignored him, turning over a page in her book and taking a huge bite from her apple.

"Where did you get that from?" he gaped. "Apples aren't indigenous to this planet."

"Brought it with me," she said, eyes on her book.

He frowned. Rose was wearing jeans and a tight tank top, It was form fitting and slinky and distracting and had a distinct lack of pockets. There was nowhere that she could have put an apple without him knowing, much less a book and pillow.

He leaned against the cell door and just watched her.

He was still in the doghouse and Rose was letting it be clear that she wasn't going to let up any time soon.

Okay, he'd been teasing her and slowly, iohsoslowly/i, seducing her for months and maybe it was way past time to put his money where his mouth was, but he was so scared of losing her. That was why he'd been pushing for her to make the first move, that way he was certain that it was what she wanted and not just his projections.

But it seemed he had gone too far and Rose, his Rose, had enough of his being a tease and was withdrawing from him.

She'd refused to take his hand as they left the TARDIS and hadn't laughed at any of his jokes as they wandered around the festival. She hadn't shown much of an interest in his offers to buy her dinner or trinkets and she'd replied with abject scorn when he asked if there was anything wrong. In fact her expression had been a direct copyright violation of his ninth self's 'stupid ape' look.

He was beginning to think that she'd never forgive him when they found themselves surrounded by the local inhabitants and frog-marched to the dungeon. The Doctor was incredulous demanding on what right they had to imprison them, they weren't doing anything wrong.

To which the jailer pointed out that he had identified himself as the Doctor who was wanted for several counts of arson, revolution and sedition and that, although he didn't look like the man who had single-handedly destroyed the Civic Court and freed the slaves (thus sending the planet into a financial freefall for several decades), having proclaimed his name as one of the most hated men on the planet meant that they had to hold him for a day.

The jailer was apologetic and said that he was sure this was all a misunderstanding and would be sorted out with having to resort to the methods of torture that were said to be awaiting the return of the blaggard.

The Doctor smiled wanly and agreed that really, when disembowelling was taken into consideration, one night in a cell wasn't too bad.

He shot Rose another grin but she was seemingly engrossed in her book and not paying any attention at all to his inner musings and internal angst.

Which wasn't fair at all.

When they were usually in a cell together Rose would cheer him up as they both plotted to escape.

...the fact that there was a 'usually' in that sentence didn't say much for his charge of keeping her safe, something he wasn't keen to tell Jackie.

Still it was routine that when they were trapped in a cell he'd pace and talk and plot escapes and Rose would smile and laugh and tease and not sit there reading a book and ignoring him.

He huffed and folded his arms, staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

Nothing.

With a heavy sigh he let himself slide down the wall he was currently propping up until he was sat on the cold dank floor of the dungeon. He leaned his head on his knees, a picture of weary surrender and sent surreptitious glances at her through his hair.

Rose calmly turned a page.

He pouted. "So, looks like we're trapped," he said loudly.

Rose ignored him.

"Really trapped," he offered, "no way out, no chance of escape."

She finished her apple and tossed the core into the small pail that they had been given to serve as bathroom. He followed it with his eyes inwardly noting what a great shot Rose was before registering that she hadn't answered him at all.

Surely she wasn't still mad at him?

"So what can we do to pass the time?" The words purred out of his mouth before his brain could get in gear and he winced as her fingers stilled on the page.

Her back stiffened and she said, with the utmost calm and the slightest amount of bitterness. "Why don't you go resonate concrete?"

Ouch.

He sank his head back against the wall.

Yep, still mad. Wow, could she hold a grudge and to be honest, which he was, she sort of maybe had a point.

He opened his mouth to speak, to say some magic words to make her forgive him and make everything better but before the magic words (which he had no idea what they would be) could emerge, the door to the jail swung open and the guard walked in.

The Doctor sprang to his feet. "Aha here to release us are you? Great stuff, brilliant. I knew that there was some mistake."

The guard shuffled his feet. "Not really, uh, we found the Blue Box."

The Doctor's face fell. "What?"

"Uh, the Blue Box as heralded in all of the warnings. We found it. Which means you are the infidel and will be executed tomorrow." The guard looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" the Doctor squeaked.

"Well, not all of us were for the slavery," the guard muttered, "and some of us get paid better now that the Civic Court is no longer handing payouts."

"So I did you a favour," the Doctor said somewhat desperately.

"Yeah. But a job's a job and in this climate you've got to do as you're told. Sorry." The guard shuffled his feet once more and headed for the door. "I'll make sure you get a good breakfast though."

The Doctor gaped at the door as the guard left the jail. "Did you hear that Rose? We're going to be executed tomorrow but at least we'll be full! Blimey, do a planet a favour and overturn a vicious corrupt system and they want to execute you for it. Gratitude! At least he was apologetic about it. Which makes a change I suppose. But enough of that!" He beamed. "Now we have to try to escape for real. I mean I was only messing about before about trapped, how can I be trapped when I have my trusty sonic, my trusty brain and my trusty compan- guh,"

He had turned half-way through his speech to Rose to see if she appreciated his magnificent upbeat attitude only to find that she had, again, pulled something to eat out of mid-air.

A cupcake.

With icing.

And...and...

"A-a," he cleared his throat, "are those edible ball bearings?"

"Yes," Rose said as she crunched one under her teeth.

Her perfect pink lips parted and her little tongue darted out to give a little kitten lick at the corner of the cupcake and every single ounce of intelligence that the Doctor had ever possessed went flying out of the heavily barred window.

Rose sat with her back against the wall, legs up on that damned pink pillow (where did that thing come from?), one hand absently stroking the edge of her book and the other holding that delicious confectionery to her mouth. Her eyes were intent on her reading and almost unconsciously her tongue flickered out again, this time curling gently around a silver ball bearing and tugging it into her mouth.

The Doctor held his breath, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he waited...

Rose sucked her cheeks in as she consumed the sugary icing, her eyes fluttering in pleasure at the rush of endorphins and taste of sweet vanilla flavour.

The Doctor swallowed hard.

And then the tiny little silver ball appeared between her teeth. She bit down and with an audible crunch the little ball was decimated.

The Doctor groaned out loud and Rose looked up.

"What?" she said.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Nothing."

Her expression was dubious but she went back to her book, eyes flickering over the pages and her hand once again stroking the fold between the pages. Back and forth with slow languorous strokes, her nails scraping slightly over the spine as her long fingers trailed like a lovers kiss over the soft sheets of white.

She nibbled on the edge of her cupcake, lips pursing and teeth flashing in the dimming light, flakes of moist cupcake sticking to her lips only to be swept away and into her mouth by a quick flick of her tongue.

During his 900 years many people had tried to seduce the Doctor; companions, enemies, even one very very confused family member; but up until this moment he had deemed himself unseduce-able.

Now one tiny human girl was unravelling him at high speed. All he could do was stare and all he could think about was how much he longed to be a cupcake.

Rose bit into another ball bearing and something inside the Doctor snapped.

"Ok, fine. You win!"

Rose looked up at the sudden burst. "What?"

"You win!" He enunciated. "I forfeit, fold, yield, give in. Done, dusted, finito."

Rose licked her lower lip thoughtfully and then sighed. "What are you on about now?"

His jaw actually dropped.

What was he on about? How...what...how could she not know?

How could Rose not tell that he was wound up tighter than spring-loaded clockwork droid and within seconds of spontaneously imploding with lust? How was she not aware that all he wanted at this very moment was to throw her down on that, frankly unhygienic, single grey mattress and not let her up until her lungs ached from screaming his name? How could she not know that his fingers ached to trace her every line and curve and his oral fixation left him salivating at the chance to finally taste those secret spots that he'd been dreaming about? How could she be so oblivious?

"Wha- how- wh-"

She rolled her eyes. "You planning in finishing a word any time soon, Doctor?"

Rose lifted the cupcake to her mouth again, seemingly finished with their argument, but the Doctor was having none of it.

In one stride he was across the room, his hands on her arms, hauling her off the bed and to her feet, the book she was reading hitting the floor with a dull thud.

With a startled squeak Rose was yanked flush against the Doctor, stomach, thighs and chest pressed together. She could feel his double heartbeat pounding against her breasts, his heavy breaths pushing at her chest and the fire in his eyes so very close to her own.

His hands held hers prisoner at her sides, his arms locked with tension and Rose was held captive by his strength.

With eyes locked intently on her own, he lifted her left hand and brought the cupcake up.

"You," he said deliberately, "need to share."

Rose gasped, heat pooling low in her belly. The Doctor lowered his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers as he tugged her hand closer to his mouth.

The lowered angle of his head made him appear so much more dangerous, the fading daylight casting sinister shadows on his face. Her knees felt weak and her toes curled inside her shoes as waves of need poured off her, something instinctive replying to the aura he was giving off.

Something primitive, primal and savage just begging to be unleashed.

His mouth opened slightly and she could feel the warm heat of his breath against her fingertips as he brought his lips around the edge of her cupcake.

Frosted icing smeared his upper lip, his tongue snaking out to swipe slowly across the top of the confection, snatching the decorations off the top.

Rose had once seen a slow motion film of a panther leaping out of the under-bush and casually snatching its prey, hauling it back to it's lair without even the slightest hint of effort. Dangerous, deadly and exactly what the Doctor had just done with her cupcake.

Her cupcake.

The Doctor was eating her sweet and when he was done he was probably going to push her back and run away like the coward he was.

Anger replaced desire.

"That's my treat!" Rose snapped, pulling herself out of his hypnotic stare and glaring at him. "Get your own!"

"Oh, I intend to," he said, a predatory grin sliding across his face.

"Unlikely," she spat and yanked futilely at his crushing grip. "You're all talk and no action, now will you let me go!"

"No." He jerked her again and tightened his grip until she was locked against him. He lowered his head again and nibbled on the cake again.

"Seriously, stop eating my cake!" Rose fumed.

"What would you rather me eat?" the Doctor asked, his voice low and hungry. His gaze flickered over her face and then started a slow leisurely descent. Pressed against him as she was, he could only drift as far as her chest but that seemed enough for him.

He grinned wolfishly.

Rose's mouth dropped open. He didn't mean... he wasn't possibly...

Was he?

The Doctor ducked his head for the third time but this time he twisted her hand slightly and his mouth fell on her fingers instead of the cupcake.

"Oops." He smirked and licked one long deliberate line from her knuckle to her fingernail.

Rose sucked in her breath, eyes wide with shock. "Doctor?"

He let go of her right hand and slowly, with microscopic deliberation, took the cupcake out of her trapped hand and dropped it on the floor.

He looked back up at her with hooded eyes.

"Rose," he breathed.

He kissed each fingertip slowly, deliberately, and then took her whole finger into his mouth.

Rose whimpered as his tongue, his clever tongue, swirled around her mid-digit, tasting, teasing and tantalizing her senses all at the same time. He nibbled on her knuckles and scraped his lower teeth along the underside of her finger.

Rose almost came right then and there, her moan escaping through her lips with the force of a freight train.

The Doctor smiled wickedly and finally dropped her hand. Rose felt bereft for all of two seconds before his hands settled on her lower back, pulling her insistently toward shim.

One hand tangled in her hair and angled her head in perfect aligned with his.

Oh, my god, thought Rose. This is it, this is going to happen. We are really really doing this.

Almost holding her breath Rose tilted towards him, her eyes drifting shut. She could feel his breath on her cheek, on her lips and her hands trembled.

The door to the jail bounded open.

"Ok," stammered the guard as he reached for his keys, "I've thought it through and I can't leave you to die, I mean, after all you did for the planet and-"

"GO AWAY!" the Doctor yelled and there was something in his expression that made the guard drop the keys on the floor and scramble backwards out of the jail.

The door slammed shut behind him.

The Doctor turned his head back to Rose and rolled his eyes. "Never fails, the hero almost finally gets the girl and someone interrupts. It's like getting in the bath and the phone rings."

"Right," Rose said, somewhat nonplussed.

"Yes, well, where were we?" The Doctor looked down at her and beamed. "Ah yes, I was going to kiss you and then, if I'm very very lucky we are going to have sex."

"I'm not shagging you in a jail cell."

His face fell. "Why not?"

It was Rose's turn to roll her eyes. "Essence of romance, you are. It's filthy and unhygienic and someone will...not could, but actually iwill/i walk in on us at some point. Probably just at that crucial moment. I'm not having it."

"Neither am I and that's kind of the problem," the Doctor said disheartened.

"You've been teasing me for months, at any time you could have just pushed me against a wall and snogged me but you chose to be a tease. I've got no sympathy." Rose folded her arms over her chest.

The Doctor was silent for a long moment and Rose had a sudden moment of panic that she had caused him to change his mind. What was she thinking? She'd wanted the Doctor to jump her for ages and now that he was she was picky about the location? Oh, God, what if he saw this as rejection? What of he thought she wasn't interested or had changed her mind or-

Rose suddenly found herself slammed against the cell wall.

"Ye—ah, I'm taking that as permission," The Doctor grinned ferociously and slanted his lips over hers.

The first touch was electric, a shiver racing down both their spines as the forbidden was suddenly tangible. The Doctor pressed his cool soft lips hard against her mouth, the very notion of this being a whim or a gesture thrown out of the window at his insistence.

This was a kiss. A proper kiss. He ravaged her mouth, taking and declaring with his motions that he was serious, that this was happening. Rose could feel her lips swelling, bruising under his assault and a thrill of finally making him lose control made her moan against his lips.

He ran his tongue across the seam of her mouth and Rose opened up, whimpering at the exquisite pressure as his mouth took possession of hers.

His body pressed her tightly against the wall, her own body trapped, her hands fisted in his shirt as his pinned her shoulders to the hard stone.

And still he took, searching out all of the corners of her mouth, leaving no place untouched, untracked, untasted. He sucked at her lips and tugged with his teeth and Rose was glad he had her pressed against the wall because there was no way her legs would hold her up by themselves. Every swipe of his tongue yanked at something deep inside her, every nibble of his lips sent a tickle down to the base of her back and she pulled her head back, gasping for air.

But he wasn't done. He left her mouth and kissed his way down her cheek, across her jawline and licked his way down her neck. He sucked on the hollow at the base of her throat and bit her collarbone.

Rose threw back her head and moaned.

"Oh, god, Doctor, please!"

"Please what?" He murmured teasingly against her skin, his breath as ragged as hers.

Rose's eyes flashed and she released her death grip on his shirt. She reached up and grabbed a fistful of that luscious thick hair and yanked his head back until he was staring her in the face.

"Don't. Play," she rasped and slammed her mouth down on his. This time it was Rose who was the conqueror, Rose who took and the Doctor who was shaking and moaning.

Rose bit down on his Adam's apple and he actually mewed like a cat, his lower body twitching.

And suddenly there were too many layers between them. Rose ripped at his shirt with her bare hands, pushing his jacket out of the way in her quest to find skin. The Doctor cupped her face, ran his fingers through her hair and just moaned her name as her fingers found his chest.

"Rose, Rose, Rose," he chanted breathlessly, his hands dancing down her sides, sliding under her tank top.

She lifted one leg and wrapped it around his thigh, twisting her body until she was flush against his pelvis, feeling the effects of their position on him.

The Doctor thrust his hips upwards causing them both to break away and gasp, the cool air suddenly coming between their bodies, jolting them into awareness.

Senses returned and Rose and the Doctor stared at each other, their breathing loud and ragged in the still air.

"Oh."

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, licking his lips.

"Right." She dropped her leg from his waist and slid down the wall until she was standing, shakily on two feet.

The Doctor took his sweet time releasing her, his hands reluctant to withdraw from her skin.

Rose watched as the Time Lord stepped back, his shirt undone and hair rumpled, and felt a frisson of pride that he was as dumbstruck by the encounter as she was.

She was aware that they had chemistry.

She just hadn't expected the lab explosion.

"Wh-" he cleared his throat, ignoring the squeak that had come out first, "what we need to do is get out of here and get back to the TARDIS-"

"-quickly-"

"-very quickly, and find a bed-"

"-a big bed-"

"-yes, a big bed, that isn't infested."

Rose nodded. "Great idea."

"I have good ideas."

"Yes you do," she smiled at him and his eyes lit up. "So escape?"

His smile faded a little. "Now would be a great time for that guard to come back."

"I think you scared him."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, he did drop the keys on the floor." The Doctor bounded over to the cell bars. "If I could fashion some sort of pulley out of the sheets I could try to make a lasso to reach them and pull them over."

"Or you could just use this."

The Doctor's mouth dropped as Rose handed him a crowbar.

"Wha- wha? How? Rose Tyler, where on earth did you hide this?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

His eyes darkened. "Oh very much."

Rose laughed. "I was fed up with being the only one without transdimensional clothes, so the TARDIS fixed me up some jeans with pockets bigger on the insides. Pillow, book, snacks and crowbar. Standard prison fare, and I should know, we've been in our fair share. I've also got a banana and a bottle of vinegar."

"Vinegar?"

"Slitheen or chips, I like to be prepared," Rose stuck her tongue between her teeth and grinned.

He grabbed the crowbar and pulled Rose to him. "Oh Rose, you are magnificent."

"I am aren't I?"

"Oh yes, and now, watch my fightin' hand do some jail time."

Rose wrinkled her nose at his very bad American accent. "Don't do that. Just don't."

Sneaked glances, hand holding, hushed breaths and the brush of skin on skin made their journey back to the TARDIS another form of extended foreplay. By the time the Blue Box was within sight Rose was almost jumping out of her skin and the Doctor had gone uncharacteristically quiet.

As they spied the TARDIS their steps sped up, the rambling gait quickening until finally Rose and the Doctor raced towards the time machine like something green and slimy was chasing them.

He dropped her hand momentarily as he tore the key from his pocket and fumbled with the lock.

Rose closed her eyes and moaned, her hand sliding up the back of his jacket to play with the little hairs at his nape.

He pushed the door open violently and hauled Rose in after him so hard she knew she'd have bruises.

Then all conscious thought fled as he slammed her against the door and caught her mouth with his own. He kissed her hard, driving his tongue inside her with a passion that sent shivers down her spine.

His hands were all over her, like he couldn't decide where to touch first so he settled for all of her. They ran from her hair to her hips, slid over her rear bumper and back up, coasting over breasts and stomach and cupping her face, kissing her all the time.

Rose did her best to match his fervor, sliding her tongue against his, battling for dominance but knowing that he was going to lead no matter what. She pushed back against him, fisting her hands in his hair and biting on his lower lip.

Someone growled and the Doctor slid his hand up and cupped her breast squeezing and rubbing his hands in a hard circular motion.

It was definitely him that moaned then, the sounds reverberating in her mouth. She half grinned as he pulled back burying his mouth against the side of her neck and kissing, biting, sucking whilst his hands squeezed in a pulsating rhythm.

Rose reached down, cupping his firm backside and pulling his pelvis hard against hers, feeling the effects of their frantic snogging pushing into her.

She wrapped one leg around his legs and circled her hips causing him to scrape his teeth over her collarbone.

"Ros-" he hissed, closing his eyes and pushing against her. He let go of her breast and hooked both hands under her bottom, lifting her and anchoring her against the wall with his body. Rose wrapped both legs around his waist, the new position causing them to be all the more intimately placed.

"Oh, god."

"Just Time Lord," the Doctor said breathlessly. He latched back on to her neck, his tongue swirling over the soft skin of her throat and shoulder. "You taste amazing."

Rose bit down on her lip and yanked at his hair, drawing his mouth back to hers as they rocked together against the door.

The motion was all together too much and not enough. She needed him so badly and he was nowhere near close enough for her. They had too many clothes on for a start. She pulled at his tie and pushed ineffectually at his suit jacket.

"Off!" she demanded. He let go of her long enough for her to drag one sleeve off his shoulder, his suit dangling halfway down his back as she tugged at his tie again.

"Please," she whimpered and he shuddered against her.

With a sudden jolt he dropped her and stepped back, breathing hard.

Rose stared wide-eyed wondering if she'd done something wrong.

"Bedroom. Now." he managed and grabbed her hand again.

The TARDIS, in her infinite wisdom and immaculate sense of timing, had moved his bedroom next door to the console room so the two intoxicated lovers wouldn't spend hours roaming the corridors, lost in a lustful haze. Not that they noticed or really appreciated it as they stumbled into his room, slammed the door and attacked each others mouths again.

He pushed her away long enough to take the jacket off and threw it across the room, his tie following soon after. But that was as far as he got before Rose decided she had waited long enough and leaped on him tearing his shirt apart, buttons flying every which way.

Her hands reached for his belt and then it was all a mix of hands and material and breathing and swearing and giggling and suddenly Rose was flat on her back with naked Time Lord above her.

He stared down at the perfect picture below, her blonde hair tangled and twisted on his pillow.

"I want to touch you and taste every single inch of you, Rose Tyler. I want to roll you around my tongue until you're etched in my senses and everything tastes of Rose for the rest of my life. I want you burned on my lips and saturated in me. I. Want. You."

"I'm yours," she said simply and he closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.

Then he opened his eyes, their drowning depths so close to hers it was like he was staring into her soul.

"I- need you."

"You have me," her voice was gentle and she reached a hand to softly stroke his hair.

Then he kissed her, the urgency gone from their frantic make-out sessions of before. Rose opened up under the gentle buss, allowing him, once again, to set the pace of tenderness and exploration.

He dropped butterfly kisses over her nose and eyelids, dancing across her cheekbones and down under her ears and then bit lightly against her earlobe, his cool breath making her shiver in delight.

He trailed a long damp kiss over her chest and down, finally taking her breast into his mouth, suckling on it hard.

Rose arched off the bed with a cry and scraped her fingers down his back, moaning his name. He grinned wickedly against her and danced his fingers down her body, tickling and touching and driving her crazy.

He transferred his nibbling, sucking attentions to the other breast, intent on following through on his promise to taste all of her.

Rose hissed as his hand reached between her legs, darting between her soaking folds to slide against her.

"Oh, Rose," he moaned.

She reached down and grabbed his hand, forcing it away. He looked up at her with confused eyes.

"What?"

"You've been teasing me for months already, Doctor," she bit out, "I don't know how much more foreplay I can take. This touching and tasting is fine but please, please, if you don't get inside me soon I might just go crazy."

A wolfish grin lit up his face. "Well, we can't have that." He pulled back and then, with one long thrust, pushed his whole length inside her.

She froze for a minute, the sense of his stretching and filling her so usual, so impossible and so right she could hardly breathe. Then he started to move,a slow piston movement. In and out, in and out, incredibly slow and hard.

Rose shuddered and keened, babbling sounds falling from her lips in a torrent asking and begging him to move and slide and just this way, a little harder and ohohoh

The Doctor braced his hands against the headboard and watched as Rose fell apart under his ministrations. He watched her expression as her head arched back, her mouth dropped open and he rocked into her. All of the walls fell away, surrender and devotion written on her face as he drove her closer and closer. An agony of pleasure seemed to emit from her, her breath ragged in the air. Her body shook violently as he changed his speed and trajectory, rubbing against her with each thrust. Rose cried out urging him on and begging him, spilling words he had never expected to hear and then she splintered, her body shaking and clamping hard on him.

Only when she found release did he let go, driving his hips against her faster and faster as she instinctively wound her legs around him.

He pushed deeper inside her, yanking at her hips and adjusting his thrust, pushing harder and faster. He pulsated against her, the muscles in his back rippling under her hands as he gave in to the full force of desire and then, with a yell and a moan he came, flooding her with heat and riding out the shock waves until his arms gave in and he collapsed on top of her, chest heaving and sweat dripping off him.

They lay there for a moment, panting and allowing the sweat to cool on their damp skin.

"So," Rose finally said, "I think I won."

It took the Doctor a moment to remember how to use the speech centre of his brain and even longer to understand her words. He raised his head from her shoulder.

"Ah, no, Rose. I definitely won."

She grinned up at him. "What about 'You win! I forfeit, fold, yield, give in. Done, dusted, finito.'?"

He swallowed and shifted slightly. "Oh that. Oh, I totally lost that, but I did intend to because it was totally clear that you could no longer keep your hands off me."

"What gave it away?" Rose smirked, "the pillow or the book? Admit it, you just hate being ignored."

"Do not."

"Yeah you do."

"Ok, yes I do. And this is a marvellous way to keep your attention." He shifted again and Rose caught her breath. "And I have to say it was all part of my master plan."

"Which was?"

"Didn't get far, really. 'Shag Rose' was about it."

Rose laughed out loud and ran her fingernails over his back

He shuddered.

"How did that work out for ya?"

The Doctor considered for a moment. "Pretty well, actually."

Rose allowed him to dip his head and press kisses along her neck, tasting as he went. Delicious tremors rocked through her.

"W-what did you win?"

"Hmm," he hummed around a mouthful of Rose.

"You said you won and you weren't talking about the 'who cracks first' thing. So what did you win?"

He looked up, surprised. "You, Rose. I won you."

Her heart melted. "Are we done playing games now then, Doctor?"

He smiled softly, stroking her hair away from her face. "Oh, Rose. I was never playing."

She touched his cheek and was rewarded with the sweetest kiss, his tongue playing against the roof of her mouth the way she had day-dreamed about all those months ago. All those times she was jealous of pen lids and ice-creams and cream cakes. The thought made her smile and he pulled away.

"What is it?"

"Just thinking. So you're done teasing me with this oral fixation of yours?"

A wicked grin crossed his face as he lowered his head. "Oh, not even close."


End file.
